


Your Touch, Your Skin, Where Do I Begin?

by ZarryFTZouis



Series: Chrissy's Oneshots [29]
Category: One Direction (Band), Union J (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Everyone but Zayn is Canadian, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 13:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3651648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZarryFTZouis/pseuds/ZarryFTZouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn is the hot new kid at CHS.</p><p>Harry may be tempted by him, if not for a cute teacher he's been fucking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Touch, Your Skin, Where Do I Begin?

**Author's Note:**

> So, in Canada, it used to be five years of secondary school after seven years of elementary school so for grade 8, I went to WGSS, which is where the original version (if I can call it that) of this is set in. Due to personal reasons, I moved to CHS for grades 9-12, and I know more about CHS than WGSS due to that.
> 
> Sorry about lack of Zarry actions though.

“Have you seen the new kid?” Niall sidles next to Harry on the seat. “He’s hot as fuck _and_ has English accent.”

“Niall,” Louis stares at his boyfriend pointedly.

“Apart from you, Louis, there’s no hot guys in Clayton,” Niall pouts, grabbing his horrible cafeteria hamburger. “I’m not calling you ugly, Harold.”

“Wow, thanks for boosting my self-esteem,” Harry rolls his eyes, taking a bite out of the sandwich he prepared at home. “Which grade is he in?”

“He’s in my Pre-Calculus 12 with Ms. Lahnert,” Niall replies around his mouthful of food. “So I’m guessing our grade.”

“What kind of an idiot moves to a new school in grade 12?” Louis scoffs, popping a chip in his mouth.

“His family’s decision, not his,” Harry reasons. “Or at least that’s my guess.”

“Whatever, both Niall and I got spare after lunch,” Louis reminds him. “Don’t I love my grade 12 timetable for the first semester?”

“I certainly don’t,” Harry jerks his head in the direction of Liam’s voice. “Hi to you too.”

“How was Chemistry with Mr. Eckhart?” Harry asks after swallowing his bits of sandwich.

“Wondering why the fuck I’m taking that course when I don’t even like it,” Liam shrugs, stealing a chip from Louis.

“Hey!” Louis protests.

“Thanks,” Liam grins at his friend. “Anything interesting I should know about?”

“There’s a new grade 12 kid,” Harry kindly informs as Niall and Louis are busy with their food. “Don’t have his name but according to Niall, he’s hot.”

“Fun.”

-

Harry has a class in a portable after lunch, which he isn’t a fan of. He had Tryliniski for Social Studies 9 and he learned that portables are shitty.

He checks his phone and sees that there’s twenty minutes left of lunch hour. He made shitty excuse to his friends about how he has to return the books.

Of course, that was a lie.

“I don’t think it’s wise of you to show up now, Harry,” Harry rolls his eyes at his teacher. “Twenty minutes is a bit… questionable.”

“Oh hush, George,” Harry locks the door behind him. “I think it’s plenty before the bell rings.”

“Don’t you have a class to go to?” George — or Mr. Shelley to others — arches his brow.

“It’s in a portable, so I’m pretty sure I can do this,” Harry smirks before crashing his lips to George’s garnering a loud groan from his former English teacher.

It’s illegal, he fucking knows that, but when he first saw George in the portable, grumbling about how he managed to get one after not getting it for past three years, George heard him. It’s nothing more than physical attraction, and they’ve been student-and-teacher-with-benefits since. The fear of getting caught is still there, but they managed not to.

“Too little time,” George whispers against Harry’s lips as he unbuckles his jeans and pulls it down just enough to take his cock out of his boxers. “Put your hands out on my desk, babe.”

“Like we haven’t done this like this before,” Harry rolls his eyes, his jeans pooled around his ankles. “Not even going to prep me?”

“Like I said, too little time,” George growls. Harry can feel the lube-slick head prodding at his entrance, biting his lower lip. When George pushes in, he bites his lip, keening at the contact. His cock is trapped between his stomach and the wooden desk, the friction deliriously okay. George fucks him fast and hard, making him reach his high soon.

“Love your tight ass,” George whispers against his neck as he releases deep inside of Harry.

“Yeah, love your cock too,” Harry replies breathlessly, getting dressed again.

-

After his class, he hurries back to the main building when someone catches his attention. It’s that five minutes of time between classes and there’s someone at the smoke pit, burning down a cigarette.

“Hey, you do realise you have a class in, like, three minutes?” Harry growls at the boy. He has tanned skin with shaved sides of his head, and his long hair is tied back into a ponytail. “Mr. Hardy won’t like this!”

“Like a give a fuck,” the other boy replies. “I have Arts next anyways, no one’d care if I’m late.”

Harry notices his British accent.

“You’re the new kid,” Harry notes brilliantly.

“Oh really, I haven’t noticed that before, babe,” the sarcasm is so thick, Harry can barely cut through it with a knife. “Mm, you’re cute.”

“Thanks?” Harry is confused by the British boy’s antics. “What are you–”

Harry doesn’t get a chance to do anything before the new kid smashes their lips together, the taste of smoke lingering on his lips. He pries Harry’s lips open and transfers the smoke, something Harry should have found disgusting, but didn’t. He actually moans against the stranger’s mouth before he pushes him away.

“What the fuck?!” Harry manages not to touch his lips like a giggling schoolgirl. “Do you go around kissing strangers?”

“Only the cute ones, and I’ll make you fall for me,” he replies sweetly. “My name’s Zayn, and remember that.”

Harry stomps away with a flushed face.

-

“You look flustered,” Niall observes as Harry arrives to their shared class of Acting 12. “Did something happen?”

“Oh nothing, the new kid kissed me out of the blue,” Harry snaps at his best friend. “He’s — fuck.”

The devil himself walks into the theatre. Zayn sits next to Harry on the circle.

“Looks like my timetable switched around a bit,” Zayn purrs into Harry’s ear. “Art is in second semester now.”

“Did you stalk me?” Harry hisses at him.

“No.”

Mrs. Rushton comes out of her office and starts the class, asking everyone about the summer holidays for the today’s question.

“And we have a new face,” she says after the question time. “Introduce yourself?”

“I’m Zayn, and I’m from England, if my accent’s not enough,” he shrugs. “Moved to Canada for reasons.”

_Oh really._

-

“Your name’s Harry, how cute,” Zayn comments. “Quite a number of people talk about you.”

“I know I got the best hair in the school,” Harry smirks at the other boy. “Why, is that part of the reasons why you want to make me fall for you?”

“I hear rumours about you and Mr. Shelley,” Zayn looks at Harry levelly.

“He’s a great English teacher, so I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry hopes the gulping sound he made wasn’t too loud for the other to hear.

“If that’s your version of the story, sure,” Zayn purrs and without any warning, he has Harry pinned to the wall. Harry wants to point out they’re in a fucking _school hallway,_ but that doesn’t stop Zayn from sucking on a bruise to his neck.

“Remember my touch whenever someone fucks you, yeah?”

Zayn leaves Harry blushing profusely.

-

“No fucking way,” Niall sounds eclectic when Harry tells him about his kiss with Zayn. “He kissed you twice?”

“He shotgunned the first time, which does _not_ count,” Harry hisses at him, regretting his choice of friends. “Niall, you have a boyfriend.”

“Who’s only one foot away from you,” Louis adds.

“I still have two working eyes,” Niall huffs, but kisses Louis’ cheeks anyways. “Do you think he’ll join us for a threesome?”

Both Harry and Louis slaps his arm.

“My innocent ears didn’t need to hear that,” Liam mutters, looking up from his Chemistry homework.

“Innocent, my ass,” Harry scoffs. “You’re as innocent as these two here.” Harry waves a hand at Niall and Louis.

“That’s offensive!” Niall calls out.

“Oh really, because I walked in on two of you fucking in the boys’ change room because you knew there were no practises that day,” Harry rolls his eyes.

“They were what?” Liam looks up again.

“Fucking in the change room, very shocking, I know,” Harry repeats himself.

“Why did you come to the change room to begin with?”

“I had PE earlier that day and dropped my PE shirt,” Harry replies. “The point is, none of us in the room is innocent.”

“I knew the rumours about you fucking that kid with fluffy hair was true,” Louis grins. Niall slaps him for Harry.

“Once,” Harry growls. “If I recall correctly, it was _your_ house party and I’m a horny drunk, okay? Brad happened to be one as well.”

“But did you meet up with him afterwards?” Louis waggles his brows suggestively.

 _No, because that was your stupid end of the summer party and I got my timetable saying that I got a frigging portable classroom for English_ , Harry growls silently. “Even if I did, that’s none of your business.”

-

“How and where the fuck did you hear the rumours concerning me and Mr. Shelley?” Harry hisses at Zayn when he founds the other boy alone at the smoke pit of Clayton.

“Some people are speculating since you frequent his portable a lot,” Zayn seems unfazed by Harry’s anger. “And excuse you, trying to smoke here.”

“I don’t fucking care,” he growls at the English boy. “There’s _nothing_ going on.”

“If that’s what you say,” Zayn shrugs, flicking the embers off his cigarette. “If I was having an illegal affair with my teacher, I’d be more indiscreet.”

“Whatever.”

-

“You look grumpy,” Louis chirps, which Harry glares at. “Point proven.”

 _Oh I don’t know, Zayn seems to have cottoned on the fact that I’m having an illegal affair with Mr. Shelley, which, is sadly the truth_ , Harry growls inside his head.

“He needs a lay,” Niall reasons, and Harry is more than happy to smack the back his friend’s head. “Ow!”

“Don’t say shit about what I need to do when I’m here,” Harry hisses as Mrs. Rushton comes into the theatre. “Isn’t Zayn in this class?”

“Who cares if he’s late?”

Acting 12 is the only class Harry shares with his best friends — minus Liam since he managed to get a C on Drama 9/10 somehow and hated it ever since — and he isn’t too keen on the fact that Zayn’s taking it as well.

“Enough chitchat, I’m starting the class,” Mrs. Rushton snaps not too harshly.

-

Zayn doesn’t show up to Acting 12, and Harry’s concerned about that more than he should be. His phone beeps from text notification, so he decides to get his mind off of Zayn by checking it.

**From: Georgie <3 **

**How were your classes today?**

**Received: 3:01PM**

**To: Georgie <3**

**Horrible, got lots of homework from Deckman**

**Sent: 3:01PM**

**From: Georgie <3 **

**Maybe I can help a little ;)**

**Received: 3:02PM**

**To: Georgie <3**

**Pick me up from the usual spot?**

**Sent: 3:02**

**From: Georgie <3 **

**Got it**

**Received: 3:03PM**

 

The usual spot where George picks him up whenever they go ever to his is three blocks away from CHS, where no one’d suspect a teacher picking his student up for _afterschool curricular activities_.

Harry’s mom doesn’t really care if Harry doesn’t come home straight from school as long as he shows up for dinner, which is a plus for him.

And of course, Harry meets someone he wasn’t expecting on the way.

“Zayn,” Harry growls at the other boy. “What are you doing here?”

“I live near here,” Zayn replies coolly. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I like walking?”

“Sure.”

And just like the first time, Zayn kisses him suddenly, lips moving almost too forcibly. Harry should push him away, he fucking knows that, but a part of him likes that fact that someone as beautiful as Zayn is kissing him. (Not that George is ugly, he’s cute and looks innocent.) Zayn runs his tongue against the seam of Harry’s lips and that’s when Harry pushes Zayn away, knowing he should stop the other boy before anything else happens.

“I thought Canadians were supposed to be nice,” Zayn remarks snidely. “But you’re aces at kissing so you’re forgiven.”

“I wasn’t looking for forgiveness to start with,” Harry hisses at Zayn, his heart sinking when he sees the familiar red Volkswagen Bug showing up. “And stop kissing me without permission, goddammit.”

“Oh, I know you enjoy our kisses.”

_I wish that weren’t true._

-

“You look… flustered,” George comments once they’re at his. Harry shot a text to his mom saying he’s at a friend’s.

“It’s the new kid,” Harry answers truthfully. “He’s getting on my nerves.”

“Zayn? He’s in my English Literature 12,” George cocks his head to the side, starting the coffee machine. “He doesn’t seem like the annoying kind, just a brooding bad boy.”

“According to him, there are rumours about us,” _rumours I failed to hear myself_. “He thinks there’s something between us.”

“He can mind his own fucking business,” George hisses. “You’re not backing out or anything, are you?”

“No,” Harry reassures George, pressing his lips to George’s. In the last ten months of this… affair, George lips were always comforting to Harry. He knows very well that George can get fired from his job if anyone were to find out, and he doesn’t want that. George’d be labelled as a pedophile and sent to jail, what else can be worse than that?

Harry mewls against George’s lips as his back is pressed against the kitchen counter, their lips moving in synch. His treacherous mind wanders off to Zayn for a split second, but it goes as soon as it came. He groans when George’s nimble fingers start to unbutton his jeans, pulling them down hastily.

“No underwear, how kinky,” George smirks against his lips, hand wrapped around his prick. “God, I don’t want this to ever end.”

Warm lips leave Harry’s and they start trekking down Harry’s body, starting from his neck. George chuckles, nipping at Harry’s soft spot, then going down lower to his collar bone. His teacher sucks on the expanse of skin there, marring it with a dark bruise. His skillful tongue plays with all four of Harry’s nipples before it laps at Harry’s throbbing dick. Harry fists at George’s hair, hot breaths fanning against his shaft before George wraps his lips around him. George isn’t much of a tease, which Harry really appreciates, so he doesn’t bother with lapping at the base of Harry’s dick, no. He goes straight to bobbing his head up and down, moaning to send vibrations down Harry’s dick. Harry tugs at his lover’s hair to anchor himself as his teacher picks his pace up.

“M’close,” Harry warns. George pulls away and jerks him off until he coats his hand with his spunk.

“Now, let’s see if I can help you with that Physics homework,” George grins, looking into Harry’s eyes as he licks the mess off of his hand.

-

Harry returns to his house around seven. His mom gives him a weird look, almost inquiring.

“Niall asked me if you were home,” she goes on.

“I was at another friend’s,” Harry feels guilty even though that’s not entirely a lie. Outside of school, George is his friend, right?

“Oh, okay. We were waiting for you for dinner,” Harry sighs in relief that his mom dropped the subject.

-

Perks of being a grade 12 students is that teachers treat you like an actual adult.

The downside is all the grad preppy shit that he has to do.

“What the fuck am I supposed to put in grad plan?” Harry groans, flipping through the binder he got from Mr. Dayton. “I don’t even know what I’m going to major in.”

“And the work experience, I _just_ started working at McDonald’s,” Niall whines, slamming the binder against the lunch table. “Louis, why aren’t you being a dramatic bitch about this?”

“It’s not worth bitching about,” Louis reasons, but his eyes are dark as he scans the things on the grad plan binder. “When’s the grad dinner dance?”

“May something,” Liam replies, filling some things on the papers. “Probably the end of May.”

“That’s really — what are you doing here?” Harry hisses at Zayn when he just walks up to their table.

“Making friends since my mum wants me to,” Zayn shrugs, sliding next to Harry like it’s the most natural thing to do. “Sup?”

“Get out,” Harry growls at the English boy. “No one wants you.”

“Your accent is hot,” Niall is practically drooling, and Louis slaps his boyfriend’s arm. “What? English accents slay.”

“Thanks?” Zayn sounds confused.

“Excuse him, he’s the horniest bastard you’ll ever meet,” Liam apologizes. “But why us?”

“Harry intrigues me,” Zayn looks into Harry’s eyes. He can see how beauteous shade of golden brown Zayn’s eyes are. “Or should I say–”

Harry slaps his hand over Zayn’s mouth, knowing what he was going to blurt out.

“Rude much?” Zayn mumbles through Harry’s hand.

-

“I don’t see why the fuck you’re dragging me to the smoke pit just to talk to me,” Harry growls, but still following the other boy. “We won’t have much privacy.”

“True,” Zayn takes out a cigarette and lights it up expertly, taking a drag. “But I get to do this.”

Harry lets Zayn press their lips together, transferring the smoke to him. It’s fucking hot, and they kiss after the smoke is long gone, ignoring the other people at the pit. Harry should stop Zayn, again, but he doesn’t want to. His treacherous mind enjoys kissing Zayn, and when he’s kissing Zayn, thoughts of George disappear from him.

 _Oh my God, George_ , Harry jumps internally. _It’s not like he and I are a thing but aren’t I committed to him?_

“Can you not think about him when I’m the one kissing you, making you feel something?” Zayn probably guessed what was going through Harry’s mind, what with sudden lack of lip movements. “Like I said, I will make you fall for me. Hard.”

“Don’t be cocky, I’m not looking for anything at the moment,” Harry growls against Zayn’s lips, then nips at the lower one.

“Oh trust me, I know you can’t keep resisting me.”

“Don’t be such a cocky bastard, you ass,” Harry snaps, turning around to go to his class he has after lunch.

But not before he sees that sinful smirk spreading across Zayn’s perfect face.

-

“Do you even care about not getting caught?” Harry hisses at George as he gathers the papers he has to grade. “You can’t just summon me to your classroom.”

“I don’t think anyone really hangs out around the portables after school, so you can relax, babe,” George lifts his head just to roll his eyes at Harry.

“I got an eighty-five percent at the Physics homework you helped me with,” Harry decides to share that.

“How many times do I have to remind you that I minored in Physics?” George rolls his eyes again.

“Who knows,” Harry giggles, walking towards George when he hears someone knocking at the door.

“Mr. Shelley?” Harry curses when he realizes it’s Zayn. “Can I come in?”

“Under the desk!” George hisses his order.

Very uncomfortably, Harry folds his body under the teacher’s desk.

“What a surprise, Zayn,” George sounds nonchalant, something that Harry should be thankful for. “Did you leave anything here during your class?”

“Yeah, my water bottle,” Zayn chirps. “Ooh, it’s on the windowsill!”

 _Why am I getting a feeling you were here to catch me with George?_ Harry asks silently.

“And tell Harry that next time he wants to sneak some alone time with you and hide suddenly, hide his backpack as well,” Zayn says smugly before Harry hears the door closes.

 _Fuck_.

-

“What are you going to do now, tell the principal?” Harry growls at Zayn, who’s smoking at the smoke pit.

“Hm, why would I do that?” Zayn puffs out a cloud of smoke. “And even if I did, I don’t have any physical proof that you’re shagging a really hot teacher.”

Harry ignores the curious stares from the other people at the pit.

“Do you have to announce it to the world?” Harry starts dragging Zayn away from the pit, not caring that Zayn’s not done. “It’s bad for both ends, God.”

“Why did you start it?” Harry curses inside his head when Zayn pins him against the wall facing the wall. “You knew you’d be caught sooner or much later.”

“That’s none of your business,” Harry looks square into Zayn’s caramel coloured eyes. “Why are you so interested?”

“I told you,” Zayn’s voice is a sexual purr, their lips barely an inch apart, “I intend on making you fall for me.”

Zayn takes a quick drag of his cigarette before slotting their lips together, pushing Harry’s arms up above his head. Harry parts his lips instinctively, taking the smoke in. It should be wrong, kissing someone other than George, with whom he has _something_ with, but it feels so right. Zayn starts to move his lips against his and Harry kisses back eagerly, blatantly ignoring the fact that they’re giving a show to the people at the smoke pit. Harry’s about to pull back from the kiss when Zayn grips onto his waist harshly, starting to grind their hips together. Harry can feel his cheeks heating up, but he doesn’t want to escape from this for some reason. He moans into Zayn’s lips, his prick hard from the contact.

“Never forget I can give you this,” Zayn whispers against Harry’s lips, then leaves him with a boner.

 _Fucking hell, why do I like his touches?_ Harry readjusts his pants so that his bulge isn’t obvious.

-

Harry ends up going to the washroom to fix his ‘problem’. He goes into the stall and locks the door, his jeans pooling around his ankles. He wraps his hand around his shaft and starts to pump himself, for the first time in a while the image he wanks to not being George. Instead of George pounding into him, Harry’s imagining Zayn instead, their lips mashing together in a heated kiss.

“Fuck,” Harry comes over his hand, the image of Zayn fucking him hard still in his mind.

-

“No one wants you here, shoo,” Harry snaps at Zayn when he joins him and his friends at their table during lunch.

“Like I said, my mum wants me to make friends,” Zayn rolls his eyes at the hostility. “I hear Niall’s throwing a party for his birthday this weekend.”

“The meaningless 17th birthday party when the best I can do is get my N, yeah,” Niall shrugs. “Not my fault my parents had sex in–”

“We know how babies are made, no need to remind us,” Liam cuts him off.

“Am I invited?” Zayn asks as he takes his lunch bag out.

“Only because you have a hot accent,” Louis elbows his boyfriend in the rib. “Ow!”

“You do realize I’m right here?” Louis growls at his boyfriend.

“Two’s memorable, three’s a night you won’t forget,” Zayn winks at both Niall and Louis.

_How can you flirt with them when you keep kissing me?_

“Is there going to be any alcohol involved?” Liam asks.

“Me parents are Irish, therefore, I’m Irish as well, so yeah, duh,” Niall adopts his best Irish accent, which isn’t bad, given his parents have that. “I can handle me alcohol.”

“It creeps me out you can switch from Canadian accent to Irish so easily,” Harry points out. “And Niall, do you remember the last time I had alcohol during a party?”

“Yes, you fucked that twink and swipe your v-card,” Niall rolls his eyes. “Which grade was that, 10th?”

 _And now I’m fucking a teacher,_ Harry notes silently. “Irrelevant but you know I’m a horny drunk!”

“I’ll make sure the punches aren’t spiked.”

-

_the weekend_

_“I’ll make sure the punches aren’t spiked”_ Niall promised Harry that, yes, but Harry’s giggly now after drinking three or four cups of fruit punch. Maybe five? Harry can’t remember.

There are about thirty people crammed into the living room of Niall’s rather large house (Niall’s parents are both sort of successful businesspeople).

Considering Louis prepared the drinks, he can see why he’s slightly buzzed.

 _I’m gonna kill that Québécois-born bastard when I see him_ , Harry vows as he wanders through the dancing bodies.

“Looking for me?” Zayn asks snidely, the voice booming over the loudly playing music. “Or maybe you’re looking for someone else.”

“Zayn!” Harry giggles, clutching onto Zayn’s shirtfront. “Hi!”

“You’re plastered,” Zayn states the obvious, steadying Harry. “I thought the drinks weren’t spiked.”

“Louis is a bastard,” Harry whispers like it’s a secret. “I hate that asshole.”

“Let’s get you to a bed so you can lie down…”

Zayn walks Harry to the second floor, looking for an empty room. Harry giggles again and leads Zayn to the guest room.

“I’m hot,” Harry complains shrugging his shirt off. “Mm, lie down with me.”

“Come again?”

“I know you want to fuck me,” Harry giggles again, stripping his jeans now. “C’mon, I’m all willing.”

“I’m a lot more sober than you are,” _why won’t you kiss me now, Zayn?_ “I don’t want to fuck you when you’re inebriated.”

“Ooh, big word,” Harry launches forward and pushes Zayn down on him. “C’mon, kiss me like you always do.”

“I’m not going to–”

Harry cuts Zayn off with a kiss, hoping his actions will speak louder than words. Zayn’s quick to kiss him back, his hand on Harry’s semi now. Harry parts his lips, letting Zayn explore his mouth without any prompts.

Zayn’s clothes come off and now they’re both naked. Harry doesn’t mind that he’s about to have sex with someone who’s not George, not when he and George are just fuck buddies.

(Illegally, but no one other than Zayn caught them together so what’s the problem?)

“No lube,” Zayn pants against Harry’s lips.

Harry struggles to think about what he can do, his hazy drunken mind making it hard to think. He comes with the solution and starts trailing his lips down until he’s facing Zayn’s hard-on. He wraps his lips around Zayn and starts to bob his head up and down; it’s not a blow, no, he’s just getting Zayn’s dick wet.

“Enough,” Zayn orders, and Harry pulls away with a loud pop. “Will you regret this in the morning?”

“No,” Harry answers truthfully, crawling back up until his entrance is pressed against Zayn’s tip. “I don’t think so.”

“I don’t…” Zayn trails off from whatever he was going to say, pushing inside of Harry.

Harry mewls, which is muffled by Zayn’s rough kiss. He got so used to George’s size, having someone else inside of is so new to him. Harry moans against Zayn’s lips as the other boy thrusts into him, somehow managing to find his prostate easily. He pulls back from the kiss to mouth at the wings tattoos on Zayn’s chest, mapping them out with his tongue as Zayn fucks into him hard.

“Remember this in the morning, yeah?” Zayn whispers, going at a faster pace.

 _I will_ , Harry replies silently.

When they come in unison, Harry doesn’t feel so guilty about it.

-

Harry’s head is fucking _pounding_ when he wakes up in a sort of familiar bed. He identifies it as Niall’s spare bed in the guest house and–

 _Why am I and Zayn both naked in a bed together?_ Harry’s alarmed and scrambles out of the bed, almost falling out.

He knows he went to Niall’s birthday party and by the looks of it, he didn’t go home.

 _Oh fuck, last night_ , Harry curses as the memories rush back to him.

 _“Remember this in the morning, yeah?”_ Zayn told him as they had sex last night.

He hastily gets dressed and flees from the room.

-

“George, I, um,” Harry hesitates, standing in front of his teacher after school.

“You what?” George arches a brow at him.

“It was Niall’s birthday party last weekend I was _drunk_ –” Harry starts.

“Get to the point please,” George sounds oddly cold, a tone he never used with Harry before.

“I had sex with Zayn,” Harry looks at the floor, the guilt hitting him hard. “I don’t know what came over me!”

“It’s not like we had anything, did we?” George sighs, cupping Harry’s chin and tilting his head up. “It’s okay, I knew this day would come sooner or later.”

“I’m not — I don’t want to end what we have!” Harry pleads, not caring he sounds desperate. “It was a drunken mistake, I don’t feel anything for him.”

_You can stop lying to yourself._

_Shut up, brain_.

“I’m your teacher,” George looks remorseful. “I can’t possibly get you what you want.”

“You make me feel wanted…” Harry chokes on unshed tears. “Desired.”

“But it’s still illegal, whether we were dating or not,” George reminds him. “I think it’s best we end it.”

George places a chaste kiss to Harry’s quivering lips.

-

“You look horrid,” Zayn comments in their Acting 12 class next day. “What happened?”

“It’s your fucking fault,” Harry hisses at the English boy. “If you didn’t fuck me at the party–”

“Oh yes, where you fled in the morning because you were ashamed by your own desires,” Zayn deadpans. “What, did Mr. Shelley–”

“Not here,” Harry hisses again, aware of people sitting around them in a circle. Niall raises a curious brow at them.

-

“So did Mr. Shelley break up with you or summat?” Zayn lights up his cigarette at the surprisingly empty smoke pit. “You told him about our little hook up.”

“He is — was — my partner and I had to,” Harry grouses. “You had a choice of leaving me the fuck alone.”

“Why would I have done that when I fell in love with your eyes the minute we met?”

Those words startle Harry.

“You’re… you’re in love with me?” is all Harry can manage to say. “I’m just a fuck-up.”

“You are,” Zayn agrees. “But your eyes reeled me in.”

“And you succeeded,” Harry sighs.

“Hm?” Smoke billows out of Zayn’s lips lazily.

“You did make me fall for you.”

Zayn grins before he presses his lips to Harry’s.

Harry kisses back happily.

-

“Can you two, like, _not_ eat your faces when we’re trying to eat some chips?” Louis growls at Harry and Zayn. Harry replies with a raised middle finger, not pulling away from the kiss he’s sharing with Zayn. _“Mon Dieu, le deux de vous êtes… très mals_.”

“I took up to French 10, I know what you said, you dick,” Harry growls, finally pulling away from the kiss. “And wow, what they said about Québécoisaccent is true.”

“You’re a dick,” Louis says in English.

“Hm, Zayn sucks my dick a lot,” Harry waggles his brows at his best friend. He gets a cushion thrown into his face.

“Didn’t you say you walked in on them fucking in the boys’ change room?” Zayn winces visibly.

“I hate you both,” Niall groans, speaking for both him and Louis.

Harry goes back on kissing his boyfriend.


End file.
